


Symmarah Short Stories

by 22kitkats



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 01:17:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14225949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/22kitkats/pseuds/22kitkats
Summary: A bunch of short symmarah one-shots, probably mostly sfw. Just for funsies on my end if you want a particular story don't be afraid to ask.





	Symmarah Short Stories

The mech room was insistently hot that day. Sweat slicked Fareeha’s hands no matter how many times she wiped them on her overalls. Orange august sun shone through the greenhouse-like roof, lighting up the giant room and sticking uncomfortable condensation on the many metal armor parts strewn throughout. Mccree embodied the definition of lounge as he spread out on the cushioned chair next to Fareeha’s workstation, where her blue armor suspended over a bare plastic mannequin-esque pole. She had a ladder set up to reach the mechanical wings, but wound herself around the armor itself as if impatient with gravity. She and Mccree had been bickering for hours at this point, taking advantage of the surprisingly empty weekend to spend some quality time together, each considering each other a sibling figure.  


Fareeha tweaked a cord near the armor’s shoulder blade, and it sparked into her pliers. Mccree let out a drawling laugh.  


“Need some help, ‘Reeha?” he asked with a smirk from under his hat.  


“You’re welcome to try, cowboy,” she replied.  


He shook his head and snapped his revolver back into his hand. “I know more about this ‘new-fangled’ tech than you think I do.”  


“You have a spur on your gun,” Fareeha deadpanned. Mccree chuckled and somehow leaned back even more, letting her win that one.  


They sat in silence for a couple minutes, letting the sun buoy them to an odd form of relaxation. They were used to spending nights like this instead of days, growing under eye bags together in a silent agreement to keep each other always pushing forward. The natural light was a welcome change to their aching bones.  


But unfortunately, other people worked in the day. Strike Commander Jack Morrison made his presence known by slamming the door open in his usual abrasive manner. His entrance into their time and space was never fully welcomed.  


“Pharah! Mccree!” He barked, “We have new recruits here.” He barged in and a small swarm of people followed him into the room. He and Dr. Zeigler always led the tours for the new recruits, to make them feel welcome and important to the organization. With the two of them was Lena, bored with an open schedule, and the recruits themselves.  


“This is Olivia Colomar-” Morrison began, but was interrupted by the shorter of the two women behind him.  


“I go by Sombra,” she said with a bit of bite. By first impression, she was short and spunky, but Fareeha noted that her buzzing gloves and the casually slung gun in her waistband made her something else, something a little unsettling and dangerous. She was glad that this “Sombra” was introduced to her as an ally.  


Morrison harrumphed a little bit, but conceded. “This is Sombra, a renowned tech genius. She’s here to provide information to us.” A hacker, Fareeha thought. That’d do it.  


“And this is Satya Vaswani. You might know her as Symmetra, the famous architech from Vishkar,” continued Morrison. But good lord, Fareeha stopped listening after he said her name.  


Satya was the most beautiful woman Fareeha had ever seen. Her brown skin practically glowed in the late summer light. Her face held regality as if she had been born royalty, with a strongly curved nose, transparent blue visor slightly shielding her eyes, the lines in her skin natural and smooth as dips in cream.  


Fareeha was suddenly aware of the grease stains on her old overalls, the sloppy bandages on her arms from the last fight.  


Satya raised her face to look at Fareeha. “Hello,” was the only thing she said. Fareeha felt it go right through her heart.  


Morrison, however, clearly didn’t. He turned to face the recruits, and gave them what Fareeha felt was the world’s shortest description of the place, before beginning to usher them out. She watched Satya’s oddly shaped skirt whisper over her calves as she turned around, watched her glossy hair shift and layer over itself as the door slid shut behind her.  


As soon as the door softly closed, Mccree sat forward in his chair. Fareeha saw the toothy grin he sported, and turned quickly back to her armor and pretended to be working hard. He often teased her about pretty women they walked past and her predisposition to blushing.  


“‘Reeha, I don’t know if I have ever seen you that red, and I know for certain it’s not from that work you ain’t doing,” he drawled with great enjoyment.  


She decided not to respond. He let her get away with that for about 30 seconds.  


“Satya… Amari? Fareeha Vaswani?” He asked.  


“She is our new coworker, you would do well to have some respect,” she replied. Despite her words, she could feel herself getting even redder.  


“Coworker or not, she’s still your type,” he said. She made the most ambiguous noise she could, and sparked more wires into her hands.  


“An architech too, y’all could make good armor together,” he mused.  


That made her laugh. “What, like Torbjorn and his turret?” She asked. He chuckled.  


They thought in silence for a minute.  


“She is very beautiful,” Fareeha said, somewhat reverently.  


Mccree smiled again. “She is. Good thing we’ll be working with her now, huh?”  


“Good thing,” she murmured into her work.  


They resumed their silence for a long while.


End file.
